My little sweetheart was waking up with out-of-control bedhead, compete with little mini-dreds, so it was time for a haircut. I only have time to negotiate hair combing with one child in the mornings.
Sweet baby curls before haircut
This nicely co-incided with a visit from Grandma Judy, so (using my giant and very sharp Don’t-touch-mom’s-scissors scissors) Drew was sheared.
Post-shearing
He kind of likes having his hair played with, so he didn’t mind sitting in the chair until his little ear got in the way of the big bad scissors and he ended up with a tiny nick.
There was a little pile of curls on the counter when we finished, now safely in an envelope.
I feel like we’ve been passing a lot of milestones in the last few months. Now Drew is a walking, jabbering, mimicking almost 14 month old. I don’t really miss the days of having a newborn (though he was an exceedingly sweet newborn) and I know from watching him with Owen and Sara that things only get more fun from here. I’m just saying that when he insists on being in my arms and no one else will do–I might sniff his baby smell and kiss his baby hair and try to remember exactly what it feels like.